Shorts, Snippets, Oneshots
by diceandpokerchips
Summary: A series of snippets, drabbles and oneshots in the Inception Universe. All Arthur/Eames
1. Happy Birthday, Partner

**The first in a series of oneshots in the Inception universe. All Arthur/Eames.**

**Summary: It's Eames' birthday, and Arthur is dreading it. Why does he suddenly have a change of heart?**

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**Happy Birthday, Partner**

Arthur woke at his usual time. Early. Ridiculously early. But today, he didn't get out of bed straight away. He wasn't looking forward to going to the warehouse. Eames had been insufferable since they'd started this job and Arthur was beginning to lose his cool. Meticulous and precise on regular extractions, Arthur was already going into the inception blindly, having no idea what to expect. He wanted to be fully prepared, which wasn't possible when Eames was doing everything he could to garner a reaction from him.

Today in particular, he didn't want to be within a mile radius of the warehouse. It was the forger's birthday and Arthur could already see how it would pan out.

"_Arthur_, can I use your laptop?"

"No."

"But, Arthur, it's my _birthday_!"

He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose, brief wondering if Cobb would believe him if he developed something highly contagious and had to stay in bed for the rest of the day. He groaned, realising that he would have to just put on a stoic expression and bear it. There would be no grinning involved.

If he was honest, Arthur quite liked Eames. His incessant teasing, he could live without. But there were times when Arthur had caught Eames staring, and he'd felt pleased. No matter how much the forger irritated him, they had a sort of friendship; the kind that couldn't be broken. It wasn't a strong friendship. They only spoke occasionally between jobs. But when they worked together, they co-ordinated well. More than one of their team had commented on how well their technique complimented each other. If it wasn't for their clashing personalities, they would be perfect partners; but they clashed because for Eames, it was all about the façade. He never showed how he was really feeling, and, although Arthur had a pretty good idea most of the time, he couldn't have a partner that didn't trust him enough to show his feelings.

It was sort of a shame, because Arthur knew he could easily fall in love with Eames.

In some ways, Arthur knew Eames would be better for him than Dom. Eames would care about Arthur's needs as well as his own, wouldn't keep any secrets from Arthur. However unreliable he was, he would never let his partner down. But a mixture of his loyalty to Dom and Arthur's unwillingness to take a partner who would definitely break his heart kept him from even considering such an option.

Arthur showered and dressed. Even after his slow start, he would be at the warehouse at least thirty minutes before anyone else would get there. He was looking forward to the peaceful period before the celebrations kicked off. He picked up the PASIV and bag, and a small gift for Eames, and left.

When he arrived, he sat at his seat, dropping the present in his drawer and setting to work on his laptop. A few minutes later, the door cracked open. Arthur's head shot up to see who had gotten here so early. He was shocked to see Eames, holding two Starbucks coffees.

"Morning." He said quietly. "I come bearing coffee." He wasn't himself, Arthur could see that, but he didn't question it. If Eames wanted to tell him, he would do so, in his own time.

"Thanks." Arthur took it gratefully. He took a sip and his eyes fluttered shut and he bit back a moan of delight. Cinnamon. Eames knew his preference, just as he knew Eames loved hazelnut. He lifted his head to thank Eames, and stopped. His eyes narrowed.

"How did you know I'd be here?" He asked, suspiciously. Eames raised an eyebrow and Arthur realised how foolish his question was. Eames shrugged.

"You're always here early. I took a gamble that you would be here. It was only a few dollars anyway if you weren't." He explained. Something was definitely not right with the forger. He seemed so down.

"How come you're here so early, anyway? You always arrive late, never mind early."

Eames shrugged. "I had a call from some family this morning. The time difference from London meant it was an _ungodly_ hour here. They were meant to be visiting later today, but they can't make it anymore."

Arthur understood Eames' disappointment. His family were meant to be flying out for his birthday, and had cancelled. His mind raced as he realised Eames would have no plans for this evening and no one should be alone on their birthday. He also realised that Eames didn't expect anyone to remember the date. His eyes softened.

"Eames." He spoke up quickly. His hand slipped into his drawer. "Happy Birthday."

The forger stared as Arthur presented him with his gift. He took it, gawping.

"_Thank _you, darling." He beamed. Arthur shook his head, amused.

"Open it then."

The forger tore at the packaging, and opened the box. Inside was the brightest, most gaudy, most _horrible_ tie that Arthur could bring himself to buy. It was a swirl of green and orange, and Arthur knew Eames would love it.

"Darling, this is perfect." He exclaimed, ripping off his tie and knotting the new one around his neck. Arthur couldn't repress the surge of pride and happiness that the forger liked his gift. He smiled, affectionately and Eames took his hand, thanking him sincerely. A moment passed between them, with Eames' hand lingering on Arthur's. The point man recognised the moment for what it was, and when Eames leaned in to kiss him, he found he wasn't surprised. His eyes fluttered shut, and he made a decision, meeting the forger's half way, their lips tentatively brushing together just once.

Arthur pulled back and looked at Eames, smiling. The forger flashed a crooked grin in return. The warehouse door slid open and Dom entered. He stopped upon spotting Arthur and Eames, and how close they were. Arthur realised his body was shifted to co-ordinate with Eames'. Yet more proof of how well they fit together so well. He turned back to Eames, his eyes searching his face for an answer. Obviously satisfied with what he saw, he turned back to Dom, who had taken a seat at his desk.

"Cobb, we need to talk. About after the inception."

Dom looked up, nodding. "I was thinking about taking a break, and then taking the occasional job…"

Arthur interrupted him. "You'll need to find a new partner."

Cobb's jaw dropped, but Arthur only had eyes for Eames, who was looking at him in amazement. The point man held out his hand, and the forger took it, squeezing it gratefully. An incredulous nod was Cobb's only acknowledgement. Arthur knew exactly what was running through his head. It was clear to everyone that they worked well together, but Arthur didn't think anyone ever expected him to acknowledge it, never mind act on it.

Standing, Eames used his grip on Arthur's hand to pull him out of the warehouse.

"It's my birthday, I'm taking the day off." Eames called back at Dom, who shook his head exasperatedly, knowing it would be fooling to stop them. Ariadne and Yusuf were arriving just as they left, and heard Eames' last sentence.

"Happy birthday, Eames." Ariadne grinned. "I'll keep your present for later, shall I?"

Yusuf chuckled. "Take care when unwrapping your present." He nodded to Arthur, who grinned in return.

They spent the whole day getting to know each other in aspects that they'd never been able to before; their personal life. While they knew each other's personalities intimately, there were details that only a partner should know, and in dreamsharing, partners needed to know everything. In between stories and questions, they kissed, slow, hesitant kisses.

"Darling, does this make you my boyfriend now? The word sound so _juvenile_, and we're hardly that." Eames pondered, lying back on Arthur's hotel bed. Arthur lay down next to him on his side, considering.

"I don't know." He said thoughtfully. "What else would you call it?"

They both fell silent for a moment. "Partners." They whispered in unison. Arthur nodded to himself. Eames was his partner, in all senses of the word. He reached out and placed his hand on the forger's hip. Eames turned to face him and Arthur drew him in for a kiss; slow, gentle, intimate, but all earlier hesitancy gone. When they pulled apart, Arthur could read the unquestioning tenderness in Eames' eyes and allowed his own affection to show.

"Yes," Arthur thought. "I could quite easily fall in love with Eames."

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**Please review! :)**


	2. Time

**Okay, so I intended to work on my next chapter of La Vie En Rose while listening to the Inception soundtrack, but this came to me instead. It's very angsty, not at all like my usual style, but I thought I'd try something different. Enjoy :)**

******Summary: When everything falls apart, what else do they have?**

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**Time**

Arthur sat in the darkened warehouse, rolling his die repeatedly across his desk. _Six. Six. Six_.

Each time he threw his totem, he hoped that a different number will come up, a four, a two, a five, anything that would give him hope that he was dreaming, and that he hadn't just fucked everything up beyond repair. Each six drained away the dregs of hope and he felt tears prick his eyes. Forcing them back, Arthur kept throwing, his other hand gripping his Glock tightly, ready to lift the gun to his head as soon as the dice changed.

Eames was gone. He wasn't coming back.

It had been an accumulation of one thing after another. A fucked up job meant that Arthur had taken a bullet meant for Eames, on a job that he hadn't been involved in, and because of his wound, Arthur had to back out of a job that Yusuf had been killed on.

Resentment and anger had burned on both sides, and the strong relationship Arthur and Eames had slowly began to develop cracks. It had taken one ill-timed comment to Ariadne about Arthur blaming Eames to end their relationship. Eames had been on his way over to Arthur with a cup of coffee, and when he'd heard what Arthur had said. The sound of the mug shattering told Arthur immediately of his mistake. The rest of the team, Ariadne included, had evacuated the warehouse instantly, and wouldn't be back until tomorrow.

Eames had stared at Arthur, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You think it's my fault?"

Arthur had looked at him, sadly. "Don't act like you don't think it's my fault too, Eames. We blame each other, that's where things were going wrong."

"You're wrong. I've never once felt like this was your fault." Eames face crumpled. "You know, Arthur, I've seen you look at me differently ever since Yusuf died. I thought it was grief, even guilt, but now I understand. It was resentment."

Arthur couldn't deny it. "I'm sorry, Eames."

The forger had just walked away, and Arthur knew that nothing could take back what he said, and there would be no way to mend the damage to their relationship.

He flung his gun across the warehouse, letting out a strangled cry. At the same time, the door to the warehouse slid open, the light momentarily blinding Arthur, who'd gotten used to the darkness. He blinked a few times, and his red-rimmed eyes stung as his eyes grew used to the light.

"Eames?" He whispered. "Is that you?"

"Yes, darling." Eames said gently, walking over to Arthur, who began to sob.

"I'm sorry Eames." He cried, and the forger pulled Arthur into his arms, only serving the make the point man weep harder. Eames reached up and wiped his cheeks, tenderly, removing the tears.

"I know, darling." He soothed.

Arthur wiped his eyes and blew his nose on his handkerchief, unattractively. He knew why Eames had come back, and he wouldn't make the decision harder.

Eames was staring at the floor, kneeling by Arthur's feet. Seeing a splash of water fall to the floor, Arthur reached out and tilted his chin up so Eames was looking at him, and pressed his lips to the forgers. Eames sobbed into the kiss and Arthur let his own tears fall.

They let no other parts of themselves touch, even though Arthur yearned to wrap his arms around Eames' broad shoulders.

At some unspoken signal, they pulled away. Eames rose to his feet, his shoulders slumped, his eyes shining with tears that were spilling down his cheeks, his heart broken. Arthur blinked, letting more tears fall as he memorised Eames' face, committing it to memory. Eventually, he nodded.

As Eames turned on his heel and walked away, Arthur watched him, silently. He couldn't change his mind, he had no right to stop him. Eames needed to walk away. It was a parting of understanding, that although there was still love, the bitterness overshadowed their relationship and without the strength to walk away, they would tear each other apart.

Arthur's eyes blurred with unshed tears, but he held them back. If he saw Eames hesitate, just for a second, Arthur wouldn't have the strength to let him leave, and they would end up destroying each other.

At the doorway, Eames paused, and squared his shoulders, without looking back. Arthur bit his lip, fiercely, and forced himself to turn away. When he looked back, Eames was gone.

An anguished wail echoed around the warehouse as Arthur overturned his desk. Amongst the clutter on the floor, Arthur spotted Eames' pocket watch, that had definitely not been there a moment ago. He picked it up and clutched it to his chest, sinking to the floor.

_Time._

It was Eames' way of letting him know that, in time, they may be able to work past what they had forgotten, to regain that which made them untouchable, unbreakable.

But for now, they had to salvage something, and they would start with a friendship.

So five years later when Eames walked into a warehouse in Prague, his eyes hesitant, but his walk confident, Arthur rose to his feet; one hand outstretched as the other flicked open a pocket watch that had become a permanent accessory.

"Ahh, Mr Eames." He smiled. "Right on time."

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**I originally intended to leave it when Eames walked out of the warehouse, but my heart couldn't cope with an unhappy ending, I actually think I'm incapable of writing one.**

**Whether you liked it or hated it, please review and tell me so! -DD**


	3. Forever And A Day

**This is supposed to be left open to interpretation, whether it's just a series of coincidences, or if you want it to be a Limbo!fic. I've not been feeling my usual self, so rather than work on La Vie En Rose and risk a depressing chapter, I thought I'd try something new instead.**

**Summary: You're waiting for a sign. A sign that will show you if this is reality. You know what you hope the sign will show you, but you don't know for sure. But it doesn't matter. Because you'll be together.**

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**Forever And A Day**

The evening was dark, tense, surreal.

There was something in the air, something black and tempting, but Eames couldn't put his finger on it. All he knew was that it had started when he arrived at the warehouse that morning. He'd walked in, and stopped dead, reaching for his gun. Ariadne and Cobb had stopped and stared at him with a mixture of shock and confusion and Eames had let his gun slide.

"What the hell is the matter with everyone this morning? First Arthur, and now you!" Ariadne asked, in disbelief.

"Arthur?" Eames asked, sharply. "What happened?"

The slamming of the upstairs door which led to the roof distracted them from the question. Ariadne spun around, trying to work out who it was, but Eames didn't even need to look.

"Excuse me a moment, won't you?" He disappeared upstairs without waiting for a response. Exactly as he expected, he found Arthur on the roof, a cigarette dangling between his lips as he searched his pockets fruitlessly for a light. Eames reached for his own, and flicked it once, holding out the flame to Arthur, who lit his cigarette with a nod of thanks.

Eames lit up his own cigarette, and Arthur frowned at him. "You've only just got here and you're taking a cigarette break?"

"Ahh, but you wouldn't be having one either if I hadn't come up." Eames pointed out. "Besides, I wanted to see what had put you in such a cheerful mood."

Arthur scowled. "Nothing. I just didn't sleep well, that's all."

"I can see that, darling. I've seen better looking corpses than you this morning." It wasn't exactly a lie. Arthur looked like he'd spent the night drinking somewhere unsavoury.

Arthur shrugged. "I don't make an effort to look good solely for you to ogle me, Mr Eames." He dropped the cigarette and used his shoe to stamp it out.

The comment held only half the usual amount of snark that Eames had come to expect when Arthur referred to his as Mr Eames. Eames was flattered.

"No, but I bet that's a big part of it." He winked. Arthur made a sound of annoyance, and moved to head inside. Eames grabbed his arm and Arthur flinched. Eames dropped his arm as if he'd been burnt.

"Don't go inside yet, darling. Tell me, have you noticed anything unusual today? I'm not sure what it is, but something seems off."

Arthur froze. Slowly, he turned to Eames, a look of fury etched on his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr Eames. I have work to do, and so do you, when you're finished wasting my time."

Eames didn't move as the door clicked shut behind Arthur. He took a final drag of his cigarette and flicked it away. Something was definitely off, and the tension that Arthur was obviously feeling meant that the point man knew it too. The question was; what was it? Eames reached into his pocket to flip his totem, when the door flew open again, and Yusuf came out.

"Oh, sorry Eames. Listen, Arthur's on the warpath and I think you should head inside and say something brilliant before he shoots you."

Eames nodded, curtly. "I'm going."

He returned inside and headed over to his desk, picking up the notes that Arthur had given him two days ago. A highlighter between his teeth, Eames began attaching certain pages to his whiteboard, and adding notes. This wasn't their usual way of working, but Eames didn't question it.

"Do we know anything about Crow's sexual preferences? Or his type?" He called out to the warehouse. Arthur's clipped response was his only reply.

"Page thirty one."

He flicked through, finding the necessary page, and skimming it quickly. The necessary information was there and Eames added it to his mind map. Absent-mindedly, Eames reached for his totem, as he always did when he was concentrating, but before he could pick it up, footsteps approached him. Eames could sense it was Arthur before he even spoke.

"What are you thinking? Crow isn't the type to share his secrets with his sexual conquests." Arthur reminded him.

Eames cocked his head. "That's true enough." He admitted. "But a business partner that also happens to be his type might be a different matter."

Arthur considered it. "That could work, depending on whether or not Crow is the type to mix business with pleasure. Most people prefer not to."

Eames couldn't help himself. "What about you, darling?"

Arthur looked at him. "I've never had occasion to consider it." He said quietly, and returned to his desk silently, leaving Eames flabbergasted. For the rest of the day, Arthur avoided him, and they both knew it. What was even more unusual was that none of the rest of the team even noticed, and Cobb always picked up on the tension between Arthur and Eames, often chewing them out for their unprofessionalism.

At around seven in the evening, Arthur looked out of the window and exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention.

"There's a storm coming. We better get back to the hotel before we're stranded here."

In the flurry of packing up, nobody noticed Arthur slip out of door quietly, except Eames, who noticed everything the point man did. He hung back, searching his drawer for his spare pack of cigarettes. When he found them, Eames reached for his car keys and paused. Shit. He'd walked that morning, since the weather had been so good, and forecast to last for a few days. How, then, had a storm snuck up on them?

It started to rain as he left the warehouse, large drops of rain falling from a darkened sky. Cursing, Eames turned up the collar of his jacket and sped up, but he knew he would be caught in the downpour long before he made the twelve blocks back to his hotel.

After a block, the rain started to pour heavily, thoroughly drenching the forger, who was fighting against the wind to make it back to the hotel. A crack of lightning shot through the black sky and made him jump.

A car pulled up next to him, and Eames glanced over to see Arthur beckoning him. He ran over gratefully and slid inside quickly.

"Darling, if I didn't think you'd throw me straight back into the rain, I would kiss you." He gasped, wiping the water from his eyes and shivering violently.

Arthur didn't reply, just turned up the heat and expertly manoeuvred the car through the rain and wind, getting them back to their hotel safely. They ran in the doors and shared an elevator up to the third floor.

"Thank you." Eames said, as he reached his door. Arthur nodded briskly, and continued to his own door, heading inside without even a second look.

Inside, Eames stripped off his wet things and changed into a dry shirt and jeans. Once he'd done that, he sat down and thought hard about the strange quality of the day. A thick atmosphere, the change in the team's personality and working methods, followed by a freak thunderstorm. Something was definitely off, and Arthur clearly felt it too. If he wanted answers, Eames would first have to question him. He opened his door to head along to Arthur's room, and found the point man standing outside his door, hand raised as if he'd been about to knock.

"Oh. Come in, darling. I was just coming to find you."

Arthur stepped into the hotel room, hesitantly, and Eames closed the door behind him.

"What can I do for you?" The forger asked, pleasant enough. Arthur turned to him, seriously.

"You've noticed this too. That something is off, but I can't work out what it is. The storm, the way we've all been working separately. It feels like everything is tinted with darkness and I can't work out what it is. Something I have noticed, though, is that I can't check my totem. Every time I consciously try, something happens to distract me.

Eames frowned, realising the same thing had happened to him. He reached for his pocket, slowly, and a crack of thunder made him jump, quickly followed by a flash of lightning as the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. He cursed, under his breath and reached for his lighter, flicking it open, the flame currently acting as the room's only source of light.

"I see what you mean." Eames' voice was thick. "Are we dreaming?"

"I don't know." Arthur admitted, miserably. "I don't know, but it seems likely. Cobb and Ariadne haven't noticed anything, neither has Yusuf. I thought I was dreaming and that you were all just projections, but now you've noticed it too."

"But we can't be certain." Eames clarified. "I flatter myself that I'm a little more paranoid than Cobb, and Ariadne and Yusuf haven't been in the field long enough to pick up on the things that we do. So this could still be reality."

"Exactly." Arthur nodded. "Which gives us a huge problem."

Eames nodded, slowly. "Yes, it does. But I think we need to agree that we do nothing rash, nothing until we're absolutely certain."

Arthur nodded once, and they lapsed into silence.

The storm raged around them, muffled by the warmth and the safety of the walls. Arthur and Eames found themselves gravitating to each other, sitting on Eames' bed, not touching and staring at the floor.

"I meant it, you know." Arthur spoke up. "I've never had occasion to consider it."

Eames chuckled, bitterly. "Darling, I've already taken the hint that you hate my guts. I persist because it amuses me. Allow me my pride, at least."

"I don't hate you." Arthur replied, confused, staring at him. "I wouldn't work with you if I hated you. What I hate is that everything is just a joke to you."

Eames turned to him and raised an eyebrow, and Arthur turned back to look at the floor, keeping his eyes fixed ahead as he spoke.

"Do you remember when we first met? That job in Bucharest? You know, Ariadne assumes I met you through Cobb. She doesn't even realise there was a time that I thought we would be partners." Arthur laughed, bitterly. "You walked into the warehouse, and looked over at me and just stopped, dead. There was a look on your face that I've never seen before. You looked at me like you'd been searching for me for years and had eventually found me. I know that because I felt like that too. Then you opened your mouth, and cracked a joke about my lack of smile."

He paused to sigh. "I hadn't smiled, because I thought you were everything I'd been looking for. I looked at you, and saw someone that I could consider a partner without a second thought. It took me completely by surprise, so I hadn't even had time to smile at you before you were poking fun at me. After that, I understood that I'd been completely wrong about you. That everything is just a joke to you, and I wasn't willing to risk my life, or my heart on you. So that's why I've never had occasion to consider mixing business with pleasure, Eames, because the only time I ever wanted to, it was snatched away."

He fell silent, breathing heavily, his eyes tracing the pattern on the carpet. Eames stared at him, in a mixture of shock and disbelief.

He found his voice. "Darling, you have never been more wrong. Yes, when I first saw you, I had the very look you mentioned, because that was all true. I saw you, and I loved you from that very moment, but that has _never _been a joke to me. I felt everything you said, and you were just looking at me, as if I was just a stranger, when for me, it felt like I'd known you my whole life. I looked at you, and I thought to myself that I would give anything to see you smile, so I cracked a joke. All I wanted was a response, but then you just sneered at me and went back to you work. For five years, I thought I'd made my feelings for you perfectly plain, that you knew I've loved you from the moment I met you. Why would I waste all that time joking about something I never meant? How could you think I never felt it?"

Arthur turned and pressed his lips to Eames' in a swift motion. It wasn't chaste, or innocent, or anything like a first kiss usually was. It was heated and passionate, and tainted with desire and regret and misunderstandings. Eames kissed him back, hungrily, thanking any deity that was listening that Arthur had returned his feelings all along, and cursing them for the misunderstanding. Arthur bit Eames' bottom lip, hard, and the forger groaned and opened his mouth, allowing Arthur's tongue access.

Arthur pushed Eames jacket off his shoulders, and Eames' hands were unbuttoning Arthur's shirt. The storm raged around them as they kissed and tumbled into bed. As they kissed, and touched, and explored, neither of them noticed that a small red die and a similarly coloured poker chip had spilled out from their pockets, and were lying side by side on the floor, together.

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**Hope you liked it, it's not my usual style at all! Please review! -DD**


	4. Summer Love

**Okay, so the lovely Sara gave me a high school AU prompt for a drabble, and this is what came out of that.**

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**Summer Love**

Arthur lifted his bag onto his shoulder, weighed down with the sheer amount of books he was carrying. He had four textbooks, plus a sketchbook filled with drawings and sketches, mainly of his friends, but there were occasionally trees or buildings with detailed architecture, whatever took his fancy.

Exiting the classroom, Arthur made his way to his usual lunch spot on the field. His friends were already sitting there; Mal resting her head in Dom's lap, Yusuf with his nose buried in a science textbook, and Ariadne making daisy chains. Arthur smiled and headed over to them.

"Hey," He greeted. "Where's Eames?"

"Principal's office." Ariadne told him, grinning. "Third period English. Mr Bishop asked Nash to read out Hamlet's soliloquy, and Eames objected to an American reading the part."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, in frustration. "What happened?" He groaned.

"Eames stood on the desk and recited the whole monologue without prompt. Bishop almost had a heart attack."

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. It was a wonder that Eames hadn't been kicked out of school yet. It was only because he managed to toe the line, but never cross it that he was still allowed in school. His ability to charm even the most furious of teachers also came into it somewhat.

It spoke volumes that he'd even managed to charm Arthur. When Eames had sauntered into the classroom, his outfit so bright and offensive, right down to the grin he was wearing, Arthur had disliked him on the spot. Of course, it had been just Arthur's luck that the only available seat in class was next to him, so he'd been stuck with the annoying Brit next to him for the whole year. But once he gave Eames a chance, Arthur found that Eames was well-read, interested in art, and had an accent to die for.

Arthur's friends had taken to Eames immediately, and none of them were surprised when, after months of pleading and badgering, Arthur had agreed to go on a date with him. It wasn't long before they became inseparable; although it drove Arthur to despair that Eames couldn't help but get himself in trouble every day. Even now, on the last day of term.

"Talk of the devil." Yusuf said, his glasses perched on his nose.

Arthur didn't turn around, but rather waited until Eames sat next to him before he raised an unimpressed brow at his boyfriend.

"In my defence, darling, Shakespeare was English! It's a disgrace to allow an American, and particularly one as greasy as Nash – seriously, does that boy ever wash his hair? – to sully his good work." Eames said, defensively.

Arthur shook his head, biting back a smile and allowed Eames to pull him in for a kiss. He allowed the corners of his mouth to quirk up as he pressed his lips to Eames'.

"Alright, you two, you're putting me off my lunch." Dom wrinkled his nose, before taking a bite of his sandwich.

Eames broke the kiss. "Sorry, Cobb. Didn't see you there. I tend to forget the rest of the world exists when I'm with Arthur."

Arthur shoved him, grinning. Eames could be so cheesy, even if it was endearing.

"What are your plans for summer, Arthur?" Mal spoke up, her dark sunglasses making her face look extremely pale.

He shrugged. "Spend it with Eames, I guess. We're going to England for a couple of weeks, but before that, I guess we're just going to make the most of it."

"Hear, hear, darling." Eames grinned, hauling Arthur back in for a passionate kiss. Yusuf and Ariadne began making vomit sounds, while Dom sighed and wrapped his sandwich up, his appetite gone. From underneath her sunglasses, Mal watched Arthur and Eames kiss, her eyes soft. This was going to be the best summer they'd ever had.

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**Hope you enjoyed it. Remember to review, my lovely readers XD**


	5. Coffee And A Smile

**Came from the tumblr prompt: Coffee Shop AU**

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**Coffee and a Smile**

"One soy latte for Darling?" Eames called out, grinning as Arthur frowned at him.

"I said my name was Arthur." He pointed out. Eames peered at the receipt in mock-surprise.

"So you did, Arthur." He grinned. "My mistake. It's my first day."

Arthur took his drink and allowed a small smile. "Thanks. I'm a regular here, so you'll probably see quite a lot of me."

"Eames, we're too busy for you to flirt with the customers. I need a white mocca and a gingerbread latte, now please." Yusuf called over, shooting Eames an exasperated look.

Eames looked sheepish. "I suppose I better get back to work then. It was a pleasure meeting you, Arthur."

"You too, Mr … Eames?" Arthur smiled, amused.

"Enjoy your day, darling." Eames called cheekily, as Arthur left the coffee shop, shaking his head.

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**The next few chapters will be short drabbles that were requested on tumblr.**


	6. Baby Blues

**Came from the tumblr prompt: MPreg**

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Arthur groaned, leaning back against the pillow Eames had just plumped for him. Eames clucked sympathetically, causing his lover to glare at him angrily.

"Jesus, Eames, nobody told me I would feel so _fat_." Arthur complained, disgustedly. "I can't even see my feet! And I can't do anything for myself, I have to rely on you."

"Darling, even if you could do things yourself, I wouldn't allow it. You need to rest, you're carrying our little boy. Besides, I thought you'd relish me having to bow to your every whim." Eames pointed out.

"I'm carrying our _daughter_." Arthur argued stubbornly. "I know it's a girl. And don't get me wrong, I love watching you fight with the bed sheets, but Eames, I mean this with every ounce of affection I can muster for you at the minute, your coffee tastes like dishwater."

As soon as he said it, Arthur felt guilty. Sure, he was carrying their child, but Eames had run himself ragged making sure Arthur didn't have to worry about anything, and here he was complaining. Arthur opened his mouth to apologies, but spotted Eames looking at him fondly.

"What?" He asked, stupidly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Eames kissed his forehead gently. "Just thinking about how much I love you and our child. Our perfect little family."

Really, Arthur thought, sometimes Eames could be so endearing.


	7. Ice

**Came from the tumblr prompt: Arthur/Eames ice skating on an outdoor rink in Canada.**

* * *

"I'm all for ice skating, but why did we have to do it in public? If we fall, everyone will laugh." Arthur sighed.

Eames grinned and twirled expertly, showing off. Arthur held tightly on to the barrier, glaring at him.

"Oh come on, darling, it's easy enough. You'll enjoy it once you let go! Look, take my head and I won't let you fall." Eames coaxed, his cheeks flushed from the cold.

Arthur looked at him in sheer disbelief. "I don't even know where to start with that. One, I am not letting go of this fence. Two, you won't let me fall? Please, you'll push me over at the first chance."

Eames sighed, irritably. "Darling, you dragged me all the way to Canada for our first vacation together. Ice skating was my one, _tiny_, stipulation." He held out his hand again. "Come on, five minutes and then we'll go grab a coffee."

Arthur tentatively took the proferred hand, terrified as Eames slowly led him around the rink.

"See, that's not so bad, is it?" Eames called, speeding up. Arthur found himself laughing as they whizzed around the ice.

Arthur would never admit it, but maybe just this one time, Eames was right: he did enjoy it.


	8. Retrieval

**Came from the tumblr prompt: a BAMF!Arthur rescuing Eames.**

* * *

Arthur stormed up to the warehouse door, subtlety be damned. The bastards had Eames, and that wasn't sitting too well with him. He kicked the door open, entering the warehouse with his gun emptying clips at anything that moved.

"In trouble again, Eames?" He snapped, firing a round right between the eyes of the guard who had been trying to sneak up on him.

A bullet grazed his arm and he clenched his teeth, biting back a hiss of pain.

"You know me, darling. Never one for a dull life." Eames called back gleefully from where he was bound.

Arthur shot him a glare before freeing him. "Cobb's outside." He called, rolling behind a desk as the remaining guards opened fire on him. "He's in the car, I'll take care of this."

"Rightio, Arthur." Eames called, cheerfully, strolling out of the warehouse door casually as Arthur covered him, taking down the last three guards easily.

Following Eames to where Dom was waiting for them, he grabbed the forger's elbow, effectively pinning him to the car. He slammed his mouth against Eames' in a bruising kiss that lasted only seconds.

"Don't make me have to do this again, Mr Eames." He said coldly, getting into the car.


	9. Fever

**Came from the tumblr prompt: Sick!Eames and Arthur takes care of him.**

* * *

"_ATISHOO_." Eames sneezed violently into the tissue that Arthur had pressed into his hand mere seconds before. "Thank you, darling."

Arthur held out the bin for Eames to dispose of the soiled tissue, shaking his head gently.

"I warned you, swimming in _February_ wasn't a good idea. I knew you'd get sick."

"I promise to listen to you next time, darling." Eames croaked, shivering. Arthur tucked him into bed, smoothing down the blankets and finding a throw to cover his sick lover with.

"No, you won't." Arthur sighed. "It'll be the same thing next year, and I'll be spoon feeding you broth again."

"Broth?" Eames said, hopefully, but his happiness was short lived as he searched fruitlessly for another tissue.

"Here." Arthur handed him the box. "Just… stay in bed, you'll be better in no time. I'll go and see about that broth, okay?"

He pressed a fleeting kiss to the top of Eames' head and left the room. Eames, his nose red from the cold, stared after him. It was times like there that he never doubted how much Arthur loved him.


	10. Bittersweet Heat

**Came from the tumblr prompt: Limbo!fic**

* * *

The heat was blistering. Arthur had removed his tie and shoes, staggering barefoot through the sand. A desert. How had he ended up in a fucking desert? His totem was long gone, years ago, the red dice lost somewhere among the dunes.

It was getting dark, and Arthur couldn't see signs of the deserts edge anywhere. He was slowly losing hope, and was seriously dehydrated. As night fell, Arthur dropped to his knees, his energy depleted.

"Arthur. Arthur!" Someone was hitting his face. Arthur forced his eyes open and Dom's face swam before his eyes.

"Arthur. I need you to think. Can you remember how you got here?"

Arthur shook his head, drowsy. "A dream?" He croaked. "It's not possible, I've been here for years. I'm an old man, Dom."

"You're in Limbo." A voice from behind Cobb spoke up. Arthur turned towards the sound, his eye widening as he recognised Eames.

"Eames." He breathed, before he registered what the forger had said. "Limbo?"

"We came down for you." The forger nodded. "I want you to come back with me, darling."

He pressed a gun into Arthur's hand, the once familiar weight of his Glock now seemed heavy, foreign. Arthur locked eyes with Eames as he raised the gun to his head. Brown eyes fixed on grey as the shot sounded.


	11. I See You

**Written for the tumblr prompt: First Meeting**

* * *

"Remind me again why we needed to bring a forger in on this?" Arthur asked, scanning over the architecture plans.

"Because this is is a dangerous job, and out of our area of expertise." Cobb explained, patiently.

Arthur sighed, irritably. "Yes, but I've never even _heard_ of this Eames guy, and the background check came up less detailed than I usually approve of. I smell trouble."

"Eames is fine, I told you, I've worked with him before. A little unreliable, totally unprofessional, but damn good at his job."

"Should my ears be burning?" An accented voice called from across the warehouse. Arthur and Cobb spun to see Eames strolling towards them. Arthur's expression changed from surprise to disgust as he took in the man's hideous paisley shirt, and ill fitting trousers.

"You're Eames." He said flatly.

"The one and only." Eames agreed. "You must be Arthur, I've heard a lot about that stick up your arse, it's a pleasure to finally see it for myself."

Arthur scowled as Eames offered his hand. He sneered, about to turn away, when he saw Cobb staring at him expectantly. Sighing, Arthur took the proffered hand, taken aback when Eames chose to kiss it instead of shaking. He snatched it back, feeling himself flush.

"Oh, darling, it's most definitely a pleasure to meet you." Eames purred. "I see great things in our future."

It took all of Arthur's willpower not to throw the forger through the window. Instead, he turned on his heel and hurried back to his laptop, leaving Eames chucking behind him.


	12. Longing

**Came from the tumblr prompt: The last time they see each other.**

**Warning: Major Character Death**

* * *

Eames groaned as he struggled out of his car at the designated meeting point. The job had gone wrong: someone had betrayed them. They'd been ambushed at the airport and Eames had taken a bullet to the stomach. He and Arthur had separated to draw off the attackers, with the agreement that they would meet up at the safe house within the hour.

Eames had just arrived, fifty five minutes after the ambush. One glance inside told him Arthur wasn't here. He waited the five minutes, and then called his phone.

"Darling, where are you?" He spoke urgently as soon as the call connected.

"Eames…" Arthur whispered, and Eames felt his blood run cold. Not Arthur. Please.

"Arthur, are you hurt? Where are you?" He demanded.

"Shot." Arthur coughed. "About five minutes away from the safe house. I had to pull over. I… don't think I'm going to walk away from this one, Eames."

Eames shook his head, refusing to believe it. Pain wracked through his stomach and he bent double, concealing an agonising gasp. "Don't say that, darling. I'm on my way to you now. Just give me the street name."

"Coleridge Avenue. Eames, listen, I need to tell you something."

"You are _not_ saying goodbye to me." He said firmly. "Do you hear me? We're going to get through this."

Arthur was silent.

"Arthur? Arthur, talk to me? Darling?" His voice grew panicked as he started the engine. "Arthur, hold on, I'll be there as soon as I can."

It only took him two minutes to get there. He found Arthur's car and screeched to a halt, staggering out of his vehicle. Arthur was hunched over the wheel, his face ghostly white, but he was still alive. Eames could tell instantly that Arthur only had minutes of life left in him. He let out a strangled cry.

"Not you, please. Not you."

Arthur tilted his head slightly, glazed eyes staring at Eames.

"Don't, Eames." He mumbled, reaching for the forger's hand. "Glad you're here."

"You can't die, darling, you hear me?" Eames felt tears running down his cheeks. "I never got to take you on a date. You need to hang on so I can take you on a night you won't ever forget."

Arthur laughed, painfully, which turned into wracking coughs. When he tilted his face upwards, blood was trickling down the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe…in the … next … life." He managed a brief smile, before his body went limp.

Eames felt his stomach tense violently, and knew that if he had any chance of surviving himself, he had to get help now. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from Arthur's lifeless body. Tears fell as he pressed a brief kiss to Arthur's lips, and he cradled Arthur's body in his own. Mere minutes later, his eyes closed for the last time.


	13. Kicks

**Written for the tumblr prompt: MPreg**

* * *

"Here you are, pet." Eames handed Arthur a cup of hot chocolate. Arthur took it gratefully, sipping the beverage with his eyes closed. Bliss.

"Oh God! Thank you." Arthur smiled at him, motioning for Eames to lean down and kiss him, which he did, just a light brushing of their lips.

"Have you found anything yet?" Eames asked, settling down the sofa beside his lover.

"No." Arthur sighed. "None of them seem right, it's our little girl Eames, her name has to be perfect." He smiled fondly at his rounded stomach.

"We've only got a few days to decide. She should be here soon." Eames coaxed him, leaning down to press a kiss to Arthur's bump.

"I know." Arthur sighed. "Have you thought of any?"

Eames sat back up, suddenly interested in his cup of tea, refusing to answer the question.

"Eames?" Arthur prodded.

The forger sighed. "I don't know. I just… Cobb called earlier. About a job. I said no!" He added, hurriedly, when he saw Arthur's expression. "I wouldn't even dream of leaving you at the minute. But when he called, I thought maybe we could call her Mallorie."

Arthur blinked, feeling warmth tinged with pain flood through him. Mallorie. The name seemed to fit so well, and it would be a beautiful way to honour their late friend.

"Have you asked Cobb about it?" He asked. Eames looked up. "I like it, Eames. It seems to fit. But if it's going to upset Dom, I'd rather not."

Eames smiled. "We'll talk to him about it tomorrow. You hear that, little Mallorie? We've got a name for you!"

Arthur let out a gasp, and Eames' expression instantly snapped to one of concern. "Darling, are you alright?" He reached for a cushion, trying to ease it behind Arthur, to support his back.

"Say her name again." Arthur ordered, breathlessly. "Talk to her again."

He took Eames' hand and pressed it to his stomach. Confused, Eames did as he asked.

"Are you coming to see us soon, Mallorie?" Eames gasped as he felt a nudge beneath his palm. His head snapped up to look at Arthur as he felt his daughter kick.

"She can hear you." Arthur smiled, fighting back tears of happiness. Overjoyed, Eames kissed away Arthur's tears, and returned to telling their child exactly how much she was loved, and how they were looking forward to being a family.


	14. Sight

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Blind!Eames**

* * *

Eames clutched his cup of tea tightly in one hand, using his stick to tap the ground in front of him. He knew the route around the park well, but there were sometimes joggers and Eames didn't want to run into anyone.

"Hey! Freeman! Come back!" A voice called from his right. Eames' head snapped round instinctively, hearing another sound coming closer, but it was too late. Something plowed into him, knocking the cup out of his hand and he hit the floor with a crash.

"Oh my God, I am _so _sorry." Eames was helped to his feet by a gentle touch, and had his walking stick handed back to him. "My dog, Freeman, he just gets a little excited…"

"It's fine, really." Eames soothed the man's stammered apologies as he dusted himself down. "I've lost my bearings now, could you point my stick back towards the entrance?"

"Of course." The man said softly, but rather than point Eames' cane, he took his elbow and turned him forty five degrees.

"Thank you." Eames smiled. "And really, don't feel bad, I can feel your embarrassment from here. It's not your fault. I know what dogs can be like."

"What's your name?" The man asked.

"Eames." He replied, confused.

"Well, Eames. I'm Arthur. You've already met my dog, Freeman. Would you like to go for a coffee? I'll replace the one Freeman knocked out of your hands."

Eames frowned. "Are you asking me on a date, Arthur?"

"Yes." Arthur said unabashed. "That is, if it's not too forward of me."

Eames smiled at him, sadly. "I'm blind. Nobody wants to date a blind man."

He started to walk away, gripping his cane tightly.

"_I'm_ not blind. I can see. But I don't see a blind man." Arthur called after him. "I see a man, just like any other person you see on the street. And I'd like to have a cup of coffee with you, if you'll permit it."

Eames paused. He turned back, slightly, smiling. "I don't drink coffee. It's American pig swill. But if you buy me a cup of tea, we'll see how things go."

He walked away slowly so that Arthur had a chance to catch up, but he was beaming from ear to ear.


	15. Defence

**Written for the tumblr prompt: High School AU - someone is bullying Arthur and his bf Eames scares them off.**

* * *

Arthur walked around the corner of the science block, his mind running over the homework they'd just received. Hopefully he could get it done quickly, before heading over to Eames' house.

Eames was his boyfriend, the captain of the football team. Arthur was kind of a nerd and had never spoken to Eames, but after being paired up on a science project, he'd fallen for Eames hard. Eames had returned his feelings and they'd been together for almost three months. They'd agreed to keep their relationship a secret to protect Eames' captaincy and barely spoke during school hours.

Someone knocked into Arthur, sending his textbooks flying. He landed awkwardly, grazing his palms and banging his face off the pavement. That would leave a mark.

Rubbing his cheek, Arthur looked up to see Nash, Eames' greasy vice-captain, sneering down at him, smugly.

"Better pick up your books, nerd." He drawled, inciting laughed from the crowd that had gathered to watch. Arthur, ignoring everyone, collected his books and dusted himself off. He tried to walk away but found himself pushed to the ground once again.

Blushing furiously, he scrambled to his feet, when silence fell. Arthur glanced up to see Eames push his way through the circle to see what was going on. Arthur bit his lip and bowed his head. He doubted Eames would help him; it would give away their entire relationship. Arthur squared his shoulders and prepared for Nash to hit him.

Eames strolled forward, and grabbed Nash by the scruff of the neck, landing a sharp blow to his face. Arthur watched, astounded, as Eames hit his vice-captain hard enough to send him hurtling to the floor.

"Eames, what the fuck?" Nash coughed, angrily, wiping the blood from his nose. "I was just teaching the nerd a lesson."

The rest of the football team had pushed through the crowd, taking stock of what had happened.

"Bloody weasel." Eames snarled. "Listen to me, and listen is my boyfriend, and the next person to touch him will have me to answer to. Am I clear?"

There were shocked murmurs of assent. He turned to his team. "Practice after school. We'll take a vote. You can vote me off the team if my sexuality makes you uncomfortable, but if you want to keep me, I want Nash gone. You can have the afternoon to think on it."

They nodded and left. Nash scurried off too, shooting a nasty glare. Eames approached Arthur as the rest of the crowd dispersed, picking up the books.

"Why did you do that?" Arthur asked quietly. "We were trying to avoid this, you could get kicked off the football team!"

Eames shrugged, and his fingers gently brushed Arthur's cheek. "I don't care. I wasn't just going to let him treat you like that. I love you, darling."

"I love you too." Arthur admitted, with a small smile. "I just know how much the team means to you."

Eames shrugged. "There'll be other teams. What kind of boyfriend would I be to stand back and let someone beat you?"

He leaned forward and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to Arthur's lips. He held out his hand and gestured for Arthur to follow him. "Come on, darling. Let's get to class. We'll talk about this tonight. You're still coming over right?"

Arthur smiled, and took Eames' hand shyly. "Of course."


	16. Domesticity

**Written for the tumblr prompt: A/E bickering on the job but at the end of the day they go home to their domestic life.**

* * *

"No, no, and for the final time, _no_!" Arthur snapped, angrily. "It won't work. The mark is clearly paying someone to tail his wife! So how can she be in two places at once? Use your brain, Eames."

"I _am_ using my brain, thank you very much." Eames retorted, angrily. "For once, use your imagination darling. Dream bigger!"

"If dreaming bigger is going to make me as fucking careless as you, then I'll pass, thanks." Arthur hissed.

Eames spun on his heel and walked out of the warehouse, slamming the door behind him. Ariadne and Cobb shot Arthur reproachful looks, and Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

They worked in silence for the rest of the day, and when Eames chose to return to the warehouse, Arthur ignored him, knowing Eames was doing the same.

It grew late, and eventually they were all too tired to think of any other ideas, so they packed away. Arthur took his time reassembling the PASIV before closing the briefcase. When he'd finished, everyone had left. He drove home, tiredly.

When he walked in the door, Eames handed him a glass of red wine. Arthur took it gratefully.

"Thank you." He said. The forger smiled and kissed him.

Eames had gotten started on dinner, but Arthur diced the chicken and tossed the salad. They settled down to a home-cooked candlelit meal, and the point man reached across the table to take Eames' hand.

"I'm sorry." He said, sincerely.

Eames shushed him. "We agreed not to bring work home. If you still want to apologise tomorrow, then we'll do it at the warehouse."

Arthur smiled and brought Eames' knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly.


	17. Tension

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Arthur is stressed.**

* * *

Arthur hunched over his laptop, typing furiously. There was a niggling doubt at the back of his mind and he couldn't help but feel felt that he'd missed something, something big that would endanger the team. He had a similar feeling after every job, and usually he hadn't, but after the Fischer job Arthur was taking no chances.

"Arthur? It's late, and we're heading off now." Cobb stood at the door to the warehouse with Ariadne and Yusuf.

Arthur nodded and waved them off. "I've got a few things to finish up here. I'll lock up when I'm done."

Cobb looked concerned. "Arthur, there's nothing else you can do now, just leave it."

"I can't." He snapped, gripping the end of the desk tightly. "I have to find what I've missed, sloppy research can endanger the whole team."

Taken aback by Arthur's sudden fit of temper, Cobb just nodded and slunk out.

Half an hour later, Arthur was ready to tear his hair out. He could find _nothing_ that he'd missed, but the doubt in the back of his mind wouldn't go away.

"Darling?" Eames came up behind him. "Darling, come on, we need to go home. It's late."

"Eames? I thought you'd gone already. Look, I have to find whatever it is I've missed…"

Eames' cut him off with a wave of his hand and slowly closed Arthur's laptop lid. "The job is _tomorrow_. There's nothing you can do now, except get some sleep."

He placed his strong hands on Arthur shoulder's, kneading gently, working the knots from Arthur's tense muscles. Arthur hadn't realised how stressed he was, until he felt Eames kneading it away.

He sighed, blissfully. "Alright." He smiled. "Come on, we'll finish this at home."

Arthur packed away his laptop, while Eames waited patiently for him. He smiled to himself. In five minutes Eames had managed to coax away Arthur's worry. He couldn't wait to see what Eames would do when they got home.


	18. Preference

**Came from the tumblr prompt: Eames forges a hot blonde woman to seduce Arthur, who tells the forger he prefers his own look.**

* * *

**Preference**

"So althought it's just a basic extraction and we should be in and out within five minutes, topside, need I remind you that with just a team of two, Mr Eames, the risk is increased?" Arthur drawled.

Eames rolled his eyes. "Yes, Arthur, I flatter myself that I'm competent enough to know such things already. That's why you chose to attach yourself to me when Cobb retired, remember?"

Arthur blinked. "Your…competency?"

Eames looked at him, surprised. "It's not?"

"It certainly comes into it." Arthur admitted. "It's refreshing to know that you're honest about your dishonesty, and if you were keeping something locked in your subconscious, it wouldn't surprise me as much as Cobb's secrecy did."

"Arthur, I wish I could reassure you otherwise, but I cheat and lie for a living. Dishonesty is what I'm known for, but I can only give you my word that whomever I keep secrets from, it will never be you." Eames shrugged, but he was completely sincere. "Besides, if I did, you'd kneecap me, am I right?" He added, with a grin.

"Cheerfully." Arthur told him, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Come on, Reynolds won't stay under forever, and we only have half an hour topside."

He hooked Eames up to the PASIV before sliding the needle into his own arm. When he was ready, he nodded at Eames.

"Sweet dreams, darling." The forger grinned, before pressing the infusion trigger.

Once inside the dream, Arthur found Eames waiting patiently for him outside the hotel bar, forged as his specialty, the beautiful blonde he'd used for the inception.

The plan was for Eames to trick the mark's room number out of him and keep him distracted so that Arthur could break in and open the safe, which should contain the information they needed.

It took Eames less than three minutes to extract the room number, and Arthur less then five to break in and extract the necessary information. The forger gave the mark the slip and met Arthur in the agreed hotel room.

"Did you get it?" He asked, eagerly.

Arthur nodded, and raised his gun, pointing it at Eames' head. Eames, still forged as the blonde, stepped forward. Surprised, Arthur lowered the gun, frowning.

"Eames, what are you…?" He was cut off as Eames ran one perfectly manicured nail down his tie, and pressed a soft kiss to Arthur's lips.

Arthur's head jerked back, instantly, frowning. "This is what you think? That you need to forge some beautiful woman to seduce me? It's not going to work, Eames."

Eames shrugged, unabashed. "It was worth a try, darling. I'll figure out your type one day."

Arthur raised the gun to his own head, but paused. "You're missing the obvious, Mr Eames," He said softly. "Have you ever thought that maybe I prefer the real you?"

He pulled the trigger before Eames could speak, waking up in reality with a gasp. Arthur reached for his die and rolled it twice. Reality. Behind him, he heard Eames' stirring, and turned around, his face expressionless.

"We've got three minutes before the mark wakes up. You know what to do."

Arthur turned away to pack up the PASIV, but paused when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He froze, but didn't turn around.

"We don't have time for this, Eames." He said, softly. The forger applied pressure to his shoulder, turning Arthur around, and leaning very close, so their lips were almost touching.

"Arthur, may I kiss you?" He breathed. Unable to do anything but nod, Arthur felt his whole body ignite as Eames closed the gap and hesitantly brushed his lips against Arthur's. The mark temporarily forgotten, Arthur focused on the sensation of kissing Eames, and the whiskery graze of Eames' stubble against his chin, and wondered how the forger could ever have thought that Arthur preferred him any other way but this.


	19. Pining

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Arthur pining after Eames.**

* * *

"Well, if that's everything, I'll be off. Darling, you know how to contact me for payment." Eames clapped his hands together, rubbing them. Ariadne and Yusuf wandered off to look for some magazines for their flights, leaving just Arthur and Eames.

Arthur nodded, not looking away from the outgoing flights. "Yeah, I'll give you a call for confirmation within a week."

"Excellent." Eames beamed, just as Arthur glanced at him. The point man felt his breath catch, even though he knew the smile was for the payment and not aimed at him. He managed a small smile and looked away again. His feelings for Eames were painful at the best of times, knowing the forger would never be his. He'd been keeping them bottled up for years.

"Arthur, was that actually a smile I saw?" Eames gasped, pretending to have a heart attack, clutching at his black shirt. Arthur shrugged.

"I do smile on occasion." He hesitated and gestured at the boards behind them. "Where are you headed?"

Eames looked surprised. "You know, in all these years, you've never asked me that?" He said quietly. He shook his head. "I don't know. I was thinking Las Vegas."

Arthur smiled at the destination that was very typically Eames. "Well, if you find yourself back in Los Angeles, give me a call." He volunteered. "Since I'm here, I'm going home. I haven't been to my apartment in nearly two years."

It wasn't a very subtle hint. As a rule, Arthur didn't ask where any of his team were headed, nor did he volunteer his own destination. It was a major security risk. The fact that he was telling Eames told the forger two things. This would either be the last place on earth he would find Arthur. Or that Arthur really wanted Eames to find him. The latter option made his head spin.

"Not sick of me yet, darling?" He smiled, weakly.

Arthur smiled. "More like a glutton for punishment." He said softly, stepping forward slightly.

He wasn't hopeful. Eames wasn't the type to settle down. Or at least, he'd never mentioned wanting to.

Eames sighed and stepped back. Arthur's expression smoothed off, and he turned away to grab the PASIV. He had his answer. But before he'd taken two steps, Eames caught his arm.

"That wasn't my answer." Eames told him, his brow furrowed. "God help me, darling, I don't think I could ever say no to you. But I want to be done with this charade, all the games. We both need to be on the same page."

Arthur let the case slide from his grasp. "Come with me."

"Why?" Eames asked, hoarsely.

"Because after every job, I've watched you walk away quietly. I never dared to even hope. But fucking hell, Eames, what we've just pulled off. Inception is a huge deal." Arthur choked, in a low voice. "We took a huge risk, so why not take one more."

He stepped forward and his hands rested on Eames' chest as he look the forger in the eye. "Come home with me. I don't want any misunderstandings. I want you to come home with me now, after each job."

Eames' head was spinning. He reached for his totem, feeling the familiar weight in his hand. A few seconds was all it took for him to determine that this was reality, that Arthur was actually standing in front of him.

"Okay." He said simply, taking one of Arthur's hands and holding it tightly.

"Okay?" Arthur repeated, not sure if he'd heard Eames right.

"Yes." Eames said firmly. Before Arthur could reply, Eames leaned forward and planted his lips firmly against Arthur's. He pulled away, leaving Arthur momentarily dazed and confused.

"Okay. Good. Come on then." Arthur babbled, trying to pull away. Eames smiled and just held his hand tighter, gently leading Arthur towards the exit. Once the cool air hit his face, Arthur snapped out of his daze and smiled up at Eames.

"Home?" He asked, tentatively.

"Home." Eames agreed.


	20. Pitch

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Major League Baseball AU**

* * *

"Team, let me introduce our new pitcher: Eames."

Arthur dropped the towel he was using to dry his hair and straightened up. "You have got to be shitting me. The Eames?"

"One and the same, darling. What might your name be?" The bulky Brit asked him, cheekily.

"Arthur. Right field." He answered, shortly, irked by the Brit's assumptions. "And I'm not your darling, no matter how talented you are."

Eames' smile faded slightly, before being renewed as he shrugged. "Whatever you say, Arthur."

He turned away, and Dom glared at Arthur. The right fielder felt a momentary pang of regret. He himself had told Cobb that they had no chance of winning the World Series unless he got Eames. Of course, he hadn't expected Dom to go out and get Eames. He supposed Saito had been involved somewhere.

And then he immediately alienated the man that would make a huge difference to the team. Sighing, he retrieved his towel and dressed, hurriedly, before heading over to the pitcher.

"Hey, listen, I'm sorry about before. I can be pretty high maintenance at times." Arthur apologised, sincerely.

Eames turned to smile at him, charmingly. "Already forgotten about." He waved. "So, Arthur, if it's not too forward of me, what do you say we get a drink after you're done here? You can tell me all about the team."

Arthur smirked. "No, thank you." The Brit looked perplexed and Arthur took pity on him. "You can find out all you need to know in the practice tomorrow. But I'll make you a deal. You help us win the World Series, and I'll go for that drink. Hell, I'll even throw in dinner. It's your call."

He grinned and walked away, wondering what Eames' next move would be.

They won the World Series, undefeated. In the center of the diamond, minutes after they had won the championship, Arthur and Eames shared their first kiss, the first of many.

"I believe you owe me a date, darling." Eames raised an eyebrow, grinning.

Arthur laughed and kissed him, uncaring of who could see them. "Mr Eames, I'd be delighted."

* * *

**I'm British, so please don't judge that I know next to nothing about baseball!**


	21. Illusion

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Eames is a 19th century magician. Arthur is his sceptical assistant.**

* * *

Arthur peeked through the curtains at the crowded room, biting his lip. The carnival had sold out, as it always did. While the Grand Master would never admit, the carnival's popularity was down to The Enchanter. His fame was renowed and had made the once-failing carnival prosperous once more.

"There's quite a crowd out there." He told The Enchanter, who went by the name of Eames when he wasn't performing.

"As always, darling." Eames told him, airily, attaching his cloak with a dramatic swoop.

Arthur shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You know, one day they're going to lose interest." He said, pointedly.

"Then we'll both be out of a job." The magician replied, absent-mindedly, smoothing down his hair.

Arthur shook his head. "You, not me. I'm leaving at the end of the week anyway. I was here to learn from the man who is supposedly 'the best'." He raised an eyebrow. "And so far, the only thing I've learnt from you is how you like your tea."

Eames spun around. "You're leaving me?" He harboured strong feelings for his assistant, but had yet to act on them.

"You sound … disappointed." Arthur told him, surprised. "I thought you didn't like me. You told Grand Master Cobb that I was a stick-in-the-mud."

Eames nibbled on his plump bottom lip in thought. "You are." He shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I want you to leave me. I… enjoy your companionship. Perhaps I haven't given you enough responsibility, Arthur. You shall be my assistant tonight as I perform the Table of Death."

Arthur's eyes widened. Eames never allowed an assistant near him when he performed the Table of Death, claiming they were a distraction and were to blame for his near-miss years ago. The fact that he was making such an effort so Arthur did not leave didn't escape the assistant's notice. He'd long since been aware of the magician's feelings, which mirrored his own. Perhaps now would be the time Eames would confess to them.

"I can see that the idea intrigues you." Eames smiled at him warmly. "So here's what I want you to do…"

They carried it off without a hitch; Arthur's assistance making the trick seem even more astounding. He found himself mobbed by adoring fans that would usually ignore him as he walked in The Enchanter's shadow.

Once in their caravan, Eames turned to him, his eyes gleaming.

"Well?"

"That was amazing." Arthur said honestly, his heart leaping with joy. "The most exhilarating thing I've ever been part of. Thank you!"

Eames raised a hand and stroked Arthur's cheek, bending his head slightly. Arthur grinned at him and pulled away, too full of energy and excitement to allow Eames to kiss him.

"Oh, no, Mr Eames." He raised an eyebrow. "We need to practice your Guillotine trick and work out how I can be involved. Get changed, and then we'll begin."

Eames groaned, but began removing his cloak. "So demanding, all of a sudden. Show him one trick and he wants the set. And I don't even get a kiss." He muttered, flinging the cloak at the mirror.

"I'm not deaf!" Arthur called from the doors. "If you want to take me as a lover, Mr Eames, you're going to have to impress me a hell of a lot more than that! I'll be in the practice tent when you're done."

He swept out of the caravan, leaving the Enchanter staring after him in amazement.


	22. Wild West

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Western AU. Arthur keeps the books for Eames' saloon.**

* * *

"You want a beer?" Eames called over, reaching for a tankard and adding a generous amount of some unlabelled liquor.

Arthur didn't look up from his work, shaking his head. "Naw, I gotta finish these books. Almost done for the night."

Eames walked over to Arthur's table, his spurs whirring as his boots strode forward. "It's good of you to help me, Arthur, maths was never my strong point."

A hint of a boyish smile lit up Arthur's face for a split second, before it was gone. He scribbled some figures on the page, and blew on the ink before closing the book and handing it to Eames.

"Should be done." He grinned, standing up.

Eames handed him his dark Stetson, regretfully. The saloon was lonely once Arthur left, even if there were still customers, the night always grew a little dimmer when his friend and book keeper left for the night.

"Sure I can't tempt you with that drink?" Eames asked, hopefully, handing a few coins to Arthur - his payment for helping with the saloon's books.

Arthur shook his head, regretfully. "Maybe another time." He shrugged, but they both knew it wasn't true. It was a ritual they went through every night. Eames would ask Arthur to stay for a drink, and Arthur would always refuse. Then he would leave, and Eames would watch the doors swing closed behind him

But not tonight.

As Arthur left, Eames followed him, calling for Ariadne to keep an eye on the bar.

"Arthur? Why won't you have a drink with me? You keep my books, you laugh and joke with me, so I know you like me, but you won't even stay for a drink in my saloon. Why?"

Arthur spun around, his boots squeaking against the polished wood of the floor.

"I do like you." He said, sadly. "But, Eames, the sort of relationship I want with you ain't looked too kindly upon in these parts, and it ain't good for business."

Eames grabbed Arthur by the collar and pulled him forward, slamming their lips together for a few seconds.

"Then they can go somewhere else." He said, firmly. "There ain't no other place to drink in these parts, so I'll call their bluff. I like you, Arthur, and there ain't nobody gonna dictate to me who I like. Now, my question to you is this. White Lightning or Cactus Wine?"

Arthur smiled, his teeth glinting. "Cactus Wine. Does this mean you're gonna expect me to balance your books for free now?"

Eames roared with laughter as they headed back into the bar. "Arthur, darlin', I wouldn't dream of it."


	23. Balance

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Cirque Du Soleil AU**

* * *

Eames helped Arthur smooth his hair down, the sweat pouring from his forehead cancelling out the strength of the gel.

"We'll be fine, darling. We've practiced this every day for the last fifteen years." He assured his American partner, kindly.

"Yeah, with other partners. We agreed when we started dating that we would keep our jobs separate. Christ, Eames, I don't even know if you can read my signals." Arthur argued.

Eames rolled his eyes. "Darling, I know your every signal. Stop worrying."

"Exactly." Cobb appeared behind them. "You're up in sixty seconds."

He disappeared again, and Arthur began to breathe heavily, clearly close to having a panic attack. Eames glared at Cobb's back, angrily and wrapped one of his muscular arms around Arthur's waist, hovering just above his leggings. Leggings that were so tight, they looked like they had been painted on. Eames took a moment to admire Arthur's thighs and beautiful rear, and licked his lips.

"Darling, have I ever told you that green is definitely your colour?"

At Arthur's glare, he sighed. "Stop worrying. Now come on, we're up."

They walked on stage, and Arthur found himself taken aback by the lights, the huge number of people in the audience, eyes fixed in his direction. Pausing so Ariadne and Mal could remove the capes from their costume, Arthur and Eames slid onto their small platform.

He stood, pressed against Eames' back as their act began. They raised their hands slowly in the air, and Eames turned his back towards Arthur. Feeling his nerves melt away, Arthur took them, sliding himself up Eames' body, until he was upside down, perfectly balanced and staring into Eames' eyes.

Arthur could feel the Brit's arms shake with the strength he was displaying, but he felt no fear. Eames wouldn't drop him. He lowered himself back down, bending his body with a flexibility that Arthur had been spent years perfecting.

When he was on his feet, he released Eames' hands, the slight changed in their positions allowing the Brit a small reprieve from Arthur's weight.

As Eames prepared to lift Arthur again, their eyes remained firmly fixed on each other and Arthur's doubts fell away with a rush of affection that made his grip waver.

Eyes widening slightly in fright, Eames tightened his hold on Arthur, terrified that he would overbalance.

His fears were unfounded as Arthur smiled down at him, his eyes portraying that which he couldn't speak. That they were so in sync with each other, knew each other's every thought, every signal, every sign. There was no way that this could be anything other than beautiful.

When their act was over, covered in sweat and shaking with the energy they had spent, Arthur and Eames left the stage. Out of sight of the audience, they drew close to each other, filled with a rush that neither of them ever forgot, Arthur desperately pressed his mouth to Eames', wondering why the hell he'd insisted they keep their acts separately for so long.


	24. Connection

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Arthur and Eames on Skype. Eames gets technical difficulties, and Arthur overhears him say something Arthur was never meant to hear.**

* * *

Arthur sat in front of his laptop, drumming his fingertips against the keys impatiently. He and Eames were on opposite ends of the world, on completely different time zones, so in order for them to have a simple conversation, they had needed to arrange a specific time to be on Skype.

He eventually managed to connect, and was pleased to find Eames was already online, waiting for him. His fingers flew over the keys as he typed his greeting.

**Arthur: Hey**

**Eames: Hello darling**

**Eames: Video call?**

Arthur didn't bother replying; just clicked on the button that would allow him to see the forger's face. The call took quite a while to disconnect. Arthur had no illusions about the quality of the call, but when it connected, he momentarily forgot about their mediocre connection. Eames' face filled the screen, momentarily throwing Arthur to the point where he'd forgotten what he was about to say.

"Hel...lo...dar...ling." Eames voice was distorted by the connection.

The point man sighed. "You're breaking up, Eames. I can hardly hear you. Should we just go back to typing? The job is next week, I need the PASIV back as soon as possible."

**Eames: What? Darling, I can't hear a word you're saying. Can you hear me?**

Arthur sighed again and muted his microphone, but left the call open. Clearly it was too much to ask for that Eames had a decent Wi-Fi connection.

**Arthur: Where's best to meet you?**

**Eames: Always straight to business with you, Arthur. Anyone would think you didn't like me.**

The point man shot a sceptical look at the webcam, only to see a small smile playing on the corner of Eames' plump lips. He scowled.

**Arthur: Quit messing around Eames. I need the PASIV; I have a job lined up. So where's best to meet you?**

He jumped as Eames let out a heavy sigh. He must have forgotten to mute his microphone. Arthur realised the connection must have stabilised slightly, because the sound wasn't breaking up quite so much.

**Eames: How about we meet in the middle? Say, Marseilles?**

"Oh, the things I do for you, Arthur." Eames murmured aloud. "I'm a fool where you're concerned."

Arthur's head snapped up. What? He couldn't have heard that right.

**Arthur: What did you say?**

**Eames: I said Marseilles. Is that suitable?**

"I fucking hate France. You know I'm only agreeing to this because I love you."

Arthur froze, his hands stilling against the keys. He couldn't believe his ears. He wanted to wait, and see what else Eames would say, but that was a dick move. Eames wouldn't have said any of this if he'd known Arthur could hear him. The only decent thing to do was to point out that his microphone was still on.

**Arthur: Eames, you're microphone is still switched on.**

He watched, his face a mixture of curiosity and sympathy as Eames' face changed from white, to red, to grey, as the forger settled on a resigned expression. The microphone went silent, but the damage had been done.

**Eames: What did you hear?**

**Arthur: Enough. I had no idea you felt like that.**

**Eames: I never intended you to hear that. I'm sorry.**

Arthur frowned. Eames had just basically bared his heart, and he was apologising to Arthur, as if the forger's declaration of love was offensive in any way?

**Arthur: There's nothing to apologise for. So, Marseilles? I propose a trade.**

**Eames: A trade?**

**Arthur: Yes. You give me the PASIV. In return, I take you on a date. Sound fair?**

**Eames: You don't have to humour me. I can take rejection like a man.**

Arthur rolled his eyes exasperatedly, and unmuted his microphone.

"I'm not_ humouring you_." He sighed, irritably. "I'm trying to tell you that I love you too, you idiot. Now are you going to meet me in Marseilles or not?"

Eames' face lit up and he enabled his microphone. "I'll book my flight, darling."

Arthur flashed the forger a quick smile before he ended the call. He had some packing to do.


	25. Captain

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Army AU**

* * *

The two troops decided to set up camp together. After all, they had a common enemy, and there was always safety in numbers. This enemy was unknown to them; unlike anything they had ever seen. The soldiers they were fighting were vicious, brutal, and each attack left them with fewer men.

Captain Eames, of the British Armed Forces, currently in-command of the forty three men they had left, had valiantly held his ground when the unknown attack came, but a minor injury to his shoulder and the devastating loss of some of his comrades had meant they were forced out of their base and out into the open. With only the little they were carrying, Eames and his men were left stranded in the woods.

Which was where they'd found Arthur.

Captain Arthur Levine, of the US Armed Forces, currently had sixty men at his command. He had stumbled across Eames' platoon in the woods, and had immediately taken a like to the other captain. He was honest, charismatic, and had a sense of humour that Arthur's men had appreciated.

So when Eames had suggested they set up camp together, Arthur had readily accepted.

They were in Arthur's tent, trying to work out a plan. Cut off from their base, Eames had no way of contacting for any back-up. Arthur had already called, but to no avail. Between them, they had just over one hundred men, but both Arthur and Eames knew it wouldn't be enough to withstand another attack.

"Who are they?" Eames wondered aloud.

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. "They're French, led by a woman we know only as Mal. The only thing we've been able to find out is that her husband was a Major in the US army, and he was killed. Since then, she and her men have been attacking any army that crosses this territory.

Eames frowned. "So that's her motivation?" He stood abruptly, pacing the tent angrily.

"Captain Eames?" Arthur asked, hesitantly. "Are you… what's wrong?"

Eames wheeled around, jabbing a finger in the direction of his former army base. "What's wrong? I've lost over half of my men because of this bitch and her vendetta. Fifty seven soldiers, _including my superior_, and now I'm left to command forty-three men, against an enemy that outnumbers and outguns us every time. I'm thirty years old in two weeks, Captain Levine, and I'll be lucky to even live that long. There's no honour in this fight, except that I will be able to die with my men. Does that answer your question?"

He placed his palms flat on the table, breathing heavily. Arthur rose to his feet, quietly, and approached him. He laid a comforting, but firm hand on Eames' broad shoulder.

"Eames. Listen to me." He dropped any semblance of rank. It didn't matter who they were any more. This was just two men talking, one in need of reassurance, and the other willing to provide it. "We can win this. There is always a way. I've lost men too, good men, who have wives and children back at home, waiting for a husband and father who will never come back. But this is what we signed up for. As a captain, I know you understand that. There may not be honour in this fight, but if we must die, we can die with honour for our countries and know that we fought to the last man."

Eames' shoulders slumped, but Arthur didn't remove his hand. "This responsibility is more than I can bear."

"But you bear it anyway, and you bear it well." Arthur assured him, squeezing his hand once affectionately. "I've seen the way your men look at you; with respect, admiration, loyalty. They would follow you to the ends of the earth if need be. Loyalty such as that is not afforded lightly. They trust you to lead them, Captain Eames, they trust your judgement. As do I." He added softly.

The British Captain looked up at Arthur quickly, then his eyes flickered to the hand that was still resting on his shoulder. Slowly, he lifted his own, larger hand to rest against Arthur's.

"Thank you." The words were simple, but Arthur understood that the sentiment was larger than words allowed for. They both drew their hands away and returned to planning.

"You're welcome. Now, we need to set up a plan of attack. I reason that if we wait for them to attack us, they'll be too prepared. But if we strike first, we have a good chance. I think it's safe to assume they've set up base here."

Eames glanced at the map to where Arthur was pointing. He gritted his teeth.

"That's our fucking base. That bitch is laughing at us."

Arthur couldn't disagree. "Well, she won't be laughing for much longer. Our aim should be to take her out."

Captain Eames nodded slowly. "Yes. Without her lead, her foot-soldiers should more or less fall apart. Limited command, or limited motivation to continue the assault. Either way, we should take down as many of them as we can, but leave this _Mal_ as our priority." He spat her name, angrily.

"Agreed." Arthur said calmly. "You know the base better than I; where's our tactical advantage?"

Eames grinned. "Thought you'd never ask. There's a tunnel under the base. It comes out in the barracks, where they'll no doubt be sleeping. Or at least half of them will. They're too well-organised to risk having all of their men sleeping at once. The other end of the tunnel starts here." He drew a cross on the map with his pen. "It's about half a mile from the village."

"Any chance they know it's there?" Arthur asked.

Eames shook his head. "None. It's not on any blueprints, it's not mentioned. I don't think anyone actually knows it's there. Not even my men knew about it."

Arthur cocked his head curiously. "So how do you know about it?"

"Like you said, I'm a Captain. And from time-to-time, I need a bloody good drink. That village has a rather delightful little bar. But of course, it's completely out of the question for a Captain to leave the base to get pissed…" Eames trailed off.

Arthur grinned. "So you found the tunnel while trying to sneak out."

"Not exactly." Eames admitted. "I found it trying to sneak back in. Major Fischer had known exactly what I was up to and locked me out. Imagine his surprise the next day when I strolled into breakfast."

Arthur laughed. He couldn't help it. It was just so very typically Eames, something he was becoming quite the expert on. He liked Eames; he was young, handsome, so full of energy. It was refreshing, very different from what Arthur had known. He could understand the loyalty Eames seemed to commandeer. Arthur knew that if he was one of Eames' men, he would do anything for the Captain.

Their situation was unfortunate. If they were lucky enough to survive this, he would probably never see Eames again. He would return to the US, and Eames to England. Even if they could maintain some semblance of friendship, Arthur was still enlisted for a minimum of five years. A comradeship struck up in the heat of battle wouldn't last five years. Arthur knew this.

It didn't bother him per se, but he did feel some sort of regret. It would have been an honour and a privilege to be able to call Eames his friend.

Arthur rummaged through his pack and produced a bottle of whisky he'd confiscated from one of his men. He'd intended to dispose of it, but they had distracted with the arrival of the British troops. He waved the bottle at Eames.

"Captain Levine, you never fail to surprise me." Eames commented, lightly, but there was a gleam in his eye as he retrieved two glasses. Arthur poured them both a generous amount and raised his cup. Eames raised his own in a silent toast, and threw back the whisky in one, savouring the burn.

"I'll be glad when this is over and I can go home." He stated. "Don't get me wrong, I don't regret enlisting. It's just … hard. Making friends just to know that you're probably going to watch them die. It wears you down after a while."

Arthur nodded. "How long have you got left?"

Eames smiled wryly. "About six months. You?"

"Five years." Arthur admitted. Eames let out a long whistle, shaking his head.

"Don't envy you that."

Arthur shook his head. "Me neither."

A companionable silence fell upon them. Arthur used the time to pour them both another drink. They made another silent toast, but this time they sipped at the alcohol, enjoying the warmth as it flowed through their blood stream.

"What are you going to do when you get home?" Arthur asked, curiously. This was a common topic of conversation in the army. Everyone always had different plans for what they would do when they returned to civilian life.

"Get so pissed I can't walk." Eames replied promptly.

Arthur grinned. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were an alcoholic. No family or anything at home?"

Eames smiled. "Nah. Got an old man somewhere. Didn't know him. My mum's dead. You?"

Arthur shrugged. "Just a sister, but we're not really close. Nobody waiting for you? Or are you the type to have a girl in every port."

The smile on the British Captain's face grew wider, turning into a fully-blown grin. "I'm not that type at all, Captain Levine. Girls aren't exactly my area of expertise."

Arthur nodded, barely concealing his surprise. He hadn't realised Eames was gay. It made no difference to him. His surprise stemmed from the fact that Eames had told him so. While generally accepted, there was still the occasional bout of unrest within the army about openly homosexual officers. Arthur wondered if Eames knew that Arthur was in a similar boat, or if he perhaps just knew that the American wouldn't think any differently of him.

"Uh, yeah. Me neither." He admitted, taking a sip of his drink in a desperate attempt to look casual. He noticed a flash of interest in Eames' gaze, and felt himself flush slightly.

"Ideally, we need to attack as soon as possible." Eames straightened up, swallowing the rest of his drink and turning to the map spread in front of them.

Taken aback by the abrupt change in topic, Arthur blinked and half-heartedly turned back to the map.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. Just for a second, that look of interest … Arthur dismissed the thoughts. "The sooner the better; if we want the advantage."

Eames rose to his feet, drawing back the front of the tent and staring at the sun. He turned back to Arthur. "We've got about three hours till sundown. Think your men could learn the layout of the place by then?"

Arthur inclined his head, smiling. "Of course, Captain Eames. What are you thinking?"

Eames ran through the plan quickly, mostly uninterrupted, except when Arthur had a query. It was a good plan; not ideal, but considering their limited number and resources, it was the best plan they had. If they truly had the advantage of surprise, then there was no reason it shouldn't work.

"It's a decent plan." Arthur nodded, slowly.

Eames shrugged. "It might work."

Arthur looked at him, soberly. "There are over a hundred men relying on us, Captain, we're going to need to do a little better than 'might'."

Both of them knew that they couldn't do any better than what they had. This was their only option. Pausing only to offer each other a nod, they swept out of the tent to start the preparations.

They each took command of their men, running through the plan of attack, before Eames' men, thanks to a diagram Eames had sketched from memory, managed to teach the layout of their former base to Arthur's men.

Sundown came rapidly, but they were ready. Eames led them through the woods to the tunnel entrance, cleverly concealed behind a large tree. Eames went first, followed by Arthur and their troops. They were dead silent; none of them dared even breathe loudly in case it revealed their whereabouts. This was their only shot.

The passage was narrow, but it easily fit Eames' broad shoulders. It was stuffy and hot, but there was plenty of oxygen, and all of them were well adjusted to extreme temperatures, so it made little difference.

It took them a little over fifteen minutes to get the end of the tunnel. Eames stopped dead in front of Arthur, and turned, signalling their arrival. They couldn't speak, but his eyes found Arthur's in the dark and they looked each other. The intensity of Eames' gaze took Arthur's breath away, but he didn't look away, instead searching the other Captain's expression, looking for a clue as to what he was thinking. He found nothing. Eames' face gave nothing away.

Arthur looked down, afraid of what Eames would see in his eyes if he looked for long enough. Eames turned away and opened the entrance to the base. His information was correct; there were men asleep in all of the bunks. The two Captains stepped out of the tunnel and into the barracks. Silently, Eames and Arthur swept out of the room. Without looking at each other, they separated. Eames heading left along the corridor and Arthur heading right. They needed to get a head start in case one of Mal's men awoke and raised the alarm.

Their worry was unfounded. They managed to get a few minutes head start before someone let out a cry of alarm. Arthur sped up, running full pelt through the corridor. Arthur's job was to sabotage their weapons supply, while Eames looked for Mal. Arthur easily found the weapons room that Eames had directed him to. He picked the lock, swiftly, with fingers that didn't so much as tremor. He couldn't afford to fumble this. At the most, he had a minute before Mal's men arrived to arm themselves. The latch clicked and the door opened, revealing the entire store of weapons.

Arthur grinned and closed the heavy metal door. Surveying it quickly, he realised Eames had been right; it would be impossible to bust it open in a hurry. He locked the door again, leaving his pin still in the lock. Arthur could hear footsteps running in his direction and he realised he was out of time. He reached for his Glock, removing the safety as he aimed a hefty kick at the lock pick. The handle snapped off, leaving the metal end wedged firmly into the lock, permanently disabling access to the weapon supply. He aimed the gun at the corner just as five men came hurtling around, stopping dead when they saw Arthur.

Without even hesitating, Arthur fired quickly, taking down three of them with headshots before the other two could even draw their weapons. Arthur flung himself to one side as one of Mal's guards got off a shot, embedding itself in the wall right behind where Arthur's head had been. Furious, Arthur emptied his magazine into his attacker, watching him fall to the floor with a vague sense of relief.

He reloaded as he ran, winding his way back through the corridors, searching for any sign of Eames or his men. He found the troops first, positioned in the courtyard and realised they were holding their ground well. He had no time to feel relieved, however, as he was immediately fired at. The bullets missed and Arthur fired back instantly, his own shots finding their targets.

Feeling a presence behind him, Arthur dropped to his knees just in time, as a large knife whistled past. He spun around, throwing himself backwards just as another knife swooped down where he'd previously been kneeling, his gun flying out of his hand, too far away to reach. He glared up at the woman standing over him.

"Mal, I presume." He spat, acidly.

She inclined her head, twirling the knife casually. "You have me at a disadvantage, Monsieur. You know my name, but I do not know yours."

"Captain Arthur Levine." He replied, using the momentary lapse in fighting to get to his feet, slowly, ready to throw himself to one side if Mal attacked. He kept his eyes fixed on her, fighting the urge to look for Eames. Where was he? He was supposed to be going after Mal. There were only two possible solutions. Either she'd given him the slip, or Eames had found her. Either way, it begged the question, where was Eames?

She inclined her head again, respectfully, and Arthur couldn't help but appreciate her elegance. Here she was, in the middle of a gun fight, clutching a knife, and she was taking the time to learn his name before attempting to kill. She was something else, that was certain. Mal raised her knife again, and Arthur

"Tell me, Captain, why do you struggle to keep your eyes on me?" Mal asked, curiously. "I am armed, you are not. I could kill you here, where you stand, and yet your eyes keep drifting around like you are searching for someone. Who is it you are looking for?" Her eyes glinted maliciously. "Perhaps it is the other Captain? The charming British Captain?"

Arthur's face gave nothing away, but he was suddenly filled with dread. What had happened to Eames? How did she know?

"Where is he?" He asked, sharply. "What did you do to him?"

Mal laughed; a cruel, vicious sound that contrasted with her beauty. "I would not expect to see your beloved Captain again, Arthur."

Furious and devastated, Arthur swung a punch at Mal, who deflected it with a quick slash of her knife. Arthur drew his arm back in pain, blood dripping from the cut. It was deep, but not deep enough to worry him just yet. He dodged left as Mal took another swipe at him and aimed a kick at her ribs. His foot met its mark and she doubled overin agony at the blow.

Arthur aimed another punch at Mal's face, but she deflected it with a wild swipe of her knife. Arthur hissed as his arm began to sting. Suddenly, Mal, stiffened, and fell to her knees, clutching at her stomach. Arthur looked around, wildly, confused at what had just happened. He saw a flash of red, and the blood began to soak through Mal's shirt. Arthur dropped to his knees, and held her in his arms. Enemy or not, nobody deserved to die alone.

Blood trickled out of the corner of Mal's mouth as she struggled to breathe, her body tense with the occasional twitch. Arthur held her, silently, regretfully, as Mal took her last breath, her eyes glazing over, unseeing.

He lowered her to the floor, closing her eyes, before he got to his feet. The remainder of her men, which amounted to no more than a dozen, fled. Arthur called out to his men to apprehend them, but not to execute them. He glanced around at Eames' men, wondering how he was going to tell them their Captain was dead.

Suddenly aware of the stinging in his arm, Arthur accepted a jacket from one of his Lieutenants, pressing it to his wound in order to stem the bleeding.

"That looks painful."

Arthur span around, his heart leaping as Eames' voice rang out. He desperately looked for the owner of the voice. Their eyes met across the yard and Arthur was running, full-pelt, and before he realised it, he was clutching at Eames, mashing their lips together in a desperate kiss.

"I thought you were dead." He gasped against Eames' lips.

He came to his senses, realising where they were, what he had just done, and pulled away, mortified. Before he could flee, Eames grabbed his collar and pulled Arthur flush against his chest, capturing his lips once more.

When they broke apart, Arthur sneaked a glance at his troops and found they were all pointedly not looking in his direction. He took that to be a sign of approval, and grinned at Eames, who returned the grin, crookedly.

It took them two days to recover the army base, one of which was spent replacing the lock on the weapons supply. Eames marvelled that Arthur had done a 'bloody good job' of breaking the lock, but wished he'd been less thorough. Arthur had just laughed and told him to man up. It was two whole days of each other's company, getting to know each other, but it was overshadowed by the fact that, once everything was recovered, they would have no choice but to separate.

Eventually, Arthur could not delay leaving any longer. Eames provided them with enough jeeps to get them to the airport. Arthur's men climbed into the vehicles and waited for their Captain.

Arthur, aware of their audience, kept a reasonable gap between them as he said farewell to Eames.

"It has been an honour and a privilege to work alongside you, Captain Eames." Arthur said, solemnly.

Eames inclined his head. "My troops and I owe you our lives."

Arthur nodded, before he spun on his heel, ready to leave.

"Captain Levine!"

Arthur turned back, and Eames drew closer.

"Arthur. Five years is a long time." Eames spoke quietly.

Arthur nodded, stiffly. "I know. I'm not asking you for anything. I don't expect you to wait, Eames."

"Which is mainly why I want to." Eames admitted. "I'll be out in six months, and I have nothing waiting for me at home."

"What are you saying?" Arthur asked hoarsely.

Eames stepped forward and brushed his lips against Arthur's, uncaring that their entire troops were present and watching.

He stepped back. "I'll write to you. We'll take it from there."

Arthur raised his hand and saluted, respectfully. Eames returned the gesture, and watched as Arthur climbed into the first jeep. He kept his eyes fixed on the other Captain as the jeeps pulled out of the army base. Arthur turned back, watching as he left Eames behind in the distance.

Neither of them had wanted to make a promise they weren't sure they could keep. But both were pretty certain that they would wait for the other. So in five years, when Arthur stepped off the plane in Heathrow airport, he wasn't remotely surprised to find Eames waiting for him. When Arthur and Eames had enlisted, they both had no homes, no family, nobody waiting for them. But in the end, they both had somebody to go back to.


	26. Totems

**Written for the tumblr prompt: Totems**

* * *

There were specific rules in dreamsharing, and then there were specific types of rules. Some were acceptable to break, depending on the circumstances; such as never discuss jobs in public. Never get involved with someone on your team. Never keep secrets that could affect the job.

Some however, were sacred. Never, under any circumstances, touch someone else's totem. There was no exception to this rule; no circumstances in which it was admissible.

Dom Cobb was the first to break this rule, when he performed inception on his wife in limbo. Of course, he had never touched her totem in reality; that was a line that even he would never cross. Cobb loved Mal more than he could express, trusted her so completely that he knew with all his heart that she would never manipulate his dreams, but even then, they both agreed to respect each other's totems. Losing their grip on reality was something neither of them wanted to experience.

It was a rule Arthur and Eames were careful never to break. No matter what the circumstance, the small red die, and the red poker chip that lay on their respective bedside tables at night. Each remained untouched by all but its owner.

They took a job together in Reno, not too long after the Fischer job. The extractor was an Irish woman named Eimear, who they'd worked with before. She was pleasant, likeable, and professional to say the least. Unfortunately, that couldn't be said for her architect, Marcus. He was surly, rude, and had a history with Eames. All of those things added up to the fact that Arthur couldn't stand him.

While Eames had not been specific about his relationship with Marcus, he had admitted that it had ended badly and that he had been the one to end it. Marcus was clearly still bitter about their relationship, even though it had been nearly five years ago. He kept sneering any time Arthur spoke, and hung on to Eames' every word. If Arthur had been a jealous man, and if he didn't trust Eames so completely, he might have reacted badly, but he wasn't, and he settled for smug glances in Marcus' direction.

It was something he was glad of, that no matter how much he and Eames fought like cat and dog; Arthur never had any doubts that Eames loved him. They were two halves of one whole and they knew that neither of them would ever do anything to hurt the other. Arthur knew he would take a bullet before betraying Eames, and that the feeling was entirely mutual. What they had between them was something that most people only ever read about, so the petty jealousy the architect displayed didn't bother Arthur all that much. It was the effect his sly remarks were having on Eames that was the issue.

"Eimear, I really think we need to go over some team-building exercises. You see, it's been a while since Eames and I worked together, and I know he used to have some _trust issues_, so it could be beneficial for us all to get to know each other."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary. Eames and I have worked together for years, and we've both worked with Eimear before. Neither of us would take a job if we didn't trust or hadn't researched the entire team before. If either of us were to take an issue, it would be me, since I haven't had the, ah, _privilege_, of working with you before." Arthur stated smoothly, raising his eyebrow.

Marcus clenched his jaw. "And do you have an issue, Arthur?"

"Not at all." Arthur replied. "Eames and I have a relationship based entirely on honesty. He's told me you're good, and that's good enough for me."

"Is that all he said about me?" Marcus grinned, flickering his eyes in Eames' direction. From the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Eames flinch.

"Yes." Arthur told him, smirking. "He also told me you were together at some point, but he said it was nothing worth mentioning."

The grin slid off Marcus' face and he dropped all pretence of being amiable, his eyes narrowing in fury.

"That's not what he used to say. You know, Arthur, you should get off your high horse and stop acting like you're a cut above the rest. Eames and I broke up because he had major trust issues. We were together for nearly three years, and he didn't trust me. Sooner or later, he's going to bail on you too, and then you'll be in my boat. Maybe you should think about that."

Eimear wheeled around. "Enough. Marcus, Arthur, if you both can't behave professionally, maybe we should call it a day."

Arthur, who had been shaken by Marcus' words, shook his head. "No, it's fine, Eimear. I apologise for my conduct. We can continue."

He bowed his head. He knew Eames trusted him, but it shook the point man to his very core. Marcus must have felt like Arthur had once, certain of his relationship with the forger, certain of his trust. And then one day, he would have had the rug pulled out from under his feet when Eames revealed the truth. That he _hadn't _trusted Marcus.

Arthur clenched his fists and relaxed. No. He knew Eames better than anyone, knew that if the forger trusted anyone, it was him.

He glanced up to see Eames staring at him with an unreadable expression, no doubt watching every thought flicker across Arthur's face. He offered Eames a small smile to show that it was okay and then turned his attention to the extractor.

"Arthur, think fast." Eames spoke up, and Arthur snapped his hand up to catch whatever Eames had thrown at him. He glanced down at the smooth, round object in his palm and froze. His face turned white and his eyes widened in a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"What's that?" Marcus asked, sharply. "What did he just throw at you?"

Arthur held up the poker chip, desperately trying to keep his hand from shaking. Marcus let out an audible gasp, and Eimear's eyes widened.

"I don't believe it." He said stubbornly. "It has to be a fake. Letting someone touch your totem is the biggest security risk we can take. He'd never let anyone else handle his totem."

"Except Arthur." Eames spoke up, sharply. "You see, Marcus, it's not that I have trust issues. I just have to find someone who is worth trusting. And Arthur is that person for me, the one person I would risk my life for. The one person I'd risk my _mind_ for."

Arthur couldn't believe his ears. He was in a state of shock, frozen to the spot. White noise was buzzing over everything Eames was saying, and yet somehow he could hear it all.

He swallowed. "Could you excuse us?"

Eimear inclined her head. "Of course. We'll see you tomorrow."

She gestured for Marcus to go, and together they left the warehouse, leaving Arthur and Eames alone. Arthur's fingers were tight around the poker chip in a biting grip.

"Tell me it's a fake." Arthur's words were desperate, his tone even more so.

Eames shook his head. "It's real, darling."

Arthur bit back a sob. "Why? This is _huge_, Eames. Just to prove a point over a bitter ex-boyfriend? How am I supposed to live with this responsibility?"

"I haven't given you anything you didn't already have; I just showed you that you had it." Eames replied. "Nor am I foolhardy enough to risk my mind over Marcus' petty jealousy. I've been thinking about this for a while, darling, and when he mentioned my trust issues, I realised something."

"What?" Arthur whispered.

Eames smiled at him, seriously. "That I wouldn't want to live in a reality where you betrayed me. So if you did manipulate my dreams, and I lost my mind, I wouldn't have to contend with the knowledge that you let me down. Not that I think you will, of course." He added. "Come on, darling; tell me that I've made a huge mistake, that you'll betray me at your first opportunity. Tell me that my trust is misplaced."

"Of course not." Arthur snapped, before softening. "Of course it's not, Eames. I love you, but I trust you even more than that. I couldn't hurt you any more than you could hurt me."

Eames smiled, softly, his eyes shining. "There we are then. That's all there is to it."

Arthur frowned, wondering why Eames didn't want to examine his die. He wondered if it was because he didn't want to deal with the pressure of knowing Arthur's life, his grip on reality was in his hands. In which case, it was unfair to place that same pressure on Arthur.

As if he knew what the point man was thinking, Eames sighed. "Darling, must you always overthink things? I haven't asked for your die because that's not how this works. I felt like I was ready to share this with you, do you understand? This was my decision, and I made it. I'll completely understand if you're never ready. I don't expect anything." Eames reassured him. "So, since we've managed to acquire a free afternoon, shall we grab a late lunch?"

Arthur smiled in return. "I have a better idea." He replied, softly, reaching his hand into his pocket. "Think fast."


	27. Protective

**Prompt: Arthur and Eames and their teenage daughter. They can be a little protective.**

* * *

Cheryl ran down the stairs, quickly, hoping to get out the front door before either of he parents could stop her. Unfortunately, he hadn't seemed to grasp that Eames had once been a wild teenager himself and knew every trick in the book, and Arthur, well, Arthur knew everything.

"And just _where_ do you think you're going, young lady, dressed like that?" Arthur's stern voice made Cheryl grind to a halt just feet from the door.

"I told you, Papa, just over to Andrew's house." She shifted her feet, awkwardly, blushing. Arthur surveyed her over the top of his newspaper. "Come on, be fair Papa, I'm going to be late. Let me go."

The clearing of a throat behind her drew her attention to the presence of her other father. Cheryl closed her eyes. Arthur, she might have been able to con. Eames, she had no chance.

"Hey, Dad. I was just on my way out." She threw her most innocent grin at Eames, who folded his arms, glaring.

"Not like that, you weren't. Go and change." Eames' tone left no room for argument, but Cheryl was her fathers' daughter in every way.

She folded her arms, stubbornly. "Why? There's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing."

Eames shot a glance at Arthur for support, but the ex-point man just flicked up his newspaper, hiding behind it. There was no way he was getting in the middle of one of their rows.

"Coward." Eames muttered, before turning his attention back to Cheryl. "Look, Cheryl, I'm not doing this to be cruel or harsh. I don't _enjoy_ having to make you change, but I'm your father, and it's my job. You can stand here and argue, or you can go and get changed, but you're not leaving this house until you're appropriately dressed."

Glaring, Cheryl span on her heel, dashing up the stairs and changing into a dress that fell to her knees. She returned, presenting herself to her parents, clearly still upset.

Arthur met Eames' eyes over the top of his newspaper and nodded once. Eames stepped aside, and let Cheryl dash out without even saying goodbye.

"Thanks for backing me up, darling." Eames snapped at Arthur, who met his gaze, folding the paper in half and tossing it to one side with a sigh.

"Eames. She's sixteen, you need to give her space, let her make her own decisions." Arthur told him calmly.

Eames shook his head stubbornly. "Not if it involves letting her dress like that. Bloody hell, Arthur, that skirt was indecent." He settled down on the sofa, next to his husband. "We shouldn't have let her go. We haven't even _met_ this Andrew. He could be debauching our daughter right now!"

The thought clearly agitated Eames and he got to his feet, clearly intent on storming out after Cheryl. Arthur caught his wrist, deftly, and pulled him back down onto the sofa, moving to straddle his husband, pinning him in place.

"Doubtful, considering she won't have even left the street yet." Arthur pointed out, dryly. "Eames, she'll be fine."

"How do you know?" Eames retorted. "We don't know anything about him."

Arthur pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. "As if I would let her go anywhere with anyone without thoroughly vetting them first." He snapped. "A name was all I need to find his school files, his police record, or rather lack thereof.. He's a nice guy, Eames. She's safe."

Eames relented, letting the tension drain from his shoulders with Arthur's words.

"Now, are you going to sit there worried all night, or are you going to focus on the fact that for once, we have an empty house?" Arthur pointed out.

Eames' face lit up, a wicked grin settling on his face as his ran his hands down Arthur's back, seductively.

"I like the way you think, darling." Eames chuckled, before pulling Arthur down for a kiss.


	28. Supernatural

**Prompt: Supernatural AU**

* * *

Eames slid out of the car silently, with one hand clutched around Mal's knife, the only weapon they currently had against the horde of demons in the building ahead. He cast a look at his brother, Yusuf, who was clutching a flask of holy water. It wouldn't kill the demons, but it would hurt like a bitch and buy them time.

"Maybe you should ask Arthur to get down here." Yusuf murmured.

For a second, Eames looked like he was going to refuse, but then he saw the logic in the plan.

"Okay, as I'm about to risk my life anyway, I'll risk the inevitable smiting when I disturb him." Eames glared at Yusuf. "Darling, if you can hear me, your feathered arse would be very much appreciated at this moment. Well, at any moment really, but I'd appreciate it if you could bring a sword or two with you?"

A fluttering of wings behind him brought a smile to his lips. "_Wonderful_ to see you, darling." Eames spun around to greet Arthur, who eyed him with disdain.

"Eames. Yusuf. What is it, I'm busy? The armies of Heaven are not at your beck and call." Arthur reminded him, glaring at Eames in particular.

The hunter clapped a hand to his heart in mock-pain. "Darling, would I ever abuse your friendship in such a way?"

"Yes." Arthur replied, amused, his eyes falling on the building behind them and he stiffened, his eyes widening in fear. "Get out of here, quickly. That's no ordinary demon's nest. I sense Dom."

Yusuf blinked, warily. "Dom? As in Dom, the King of Hell?"

"Yes." Arthur's voice was strained. "We should go, before…"

"Before what, Arthur?" A soft voice spoke from behind them. Eames span around, his knife raised, but Arthur's warning grip on his arm stopped him.

"Mal." The angel greeted quietly, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. "You're here to see Dom, I assume."

Mal raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, a small smirk playing on her lips. "You think I would tell you if I were, angel?"

The angel's face tightened slightly, and his hand slipped inside his waistcoat. There was noise coming from the building behind them, the demons would soon come out to see what was delaying Mal's arrival and then they would be trapped.

"No need to be so hasty, Arthur." Mal's voice was cold. "I have no quarrel with you, or your … friends." Her eyes flickered between Eames and Yusuf in distaste. "Not right now. My business is with Dom. So I offer you a choice. Stay and fight, or leave now, and I won't utter a word of your presence here."

"And we're supposed to believe that, pet?" Eames kept his tone pleasant, but the obvious hatred in his eyes was visible to everyone.

Mal let out a quiet, tinkling laugh that made the hair on the back of Eames' neck stand up. "Well, we could always … make a deal." Her eyes flashed red.

Arthur stepped forward, seeing Eames was tensed to attack. "We'll leave."

Without hesitation, Arthur raised two fingers to Eames' head, his other hand doing the same to Yusuf. Instantly, they found themselves back in a motel room two states away from where they'd encountered the demons.

"My car!" Eames snapped at Arthur, who rolled his eyes and gestured to the window. Sure enough, Eames' battered vehicle was parked outside as if it had been there the whole time.

Yusuf excused himself to the bathroom, muttering something about not being a huge fan of Angel Airways, and locked the door behind him.

Eames glared at Arthur, who met his gaze expressionlessly. "I did what needed to be done to keep you safe." He told Eames, sadly. "You said we were like family. This is what I would do for my family."

He disappeared, appearing instantly in front of Eames, brushing their lips together, lightly. "I must go. I'm expected elsewhere."

Before Eames could speak, or even react, Arthur was gone, leaving nothing but a slight tingling in Eames' lips, and the sudden knowledge that he wouldn't be able to visit the bathroom for at least a week.

"Bloody buggering angel." He growled, collapsing on his bed, intent on getting some sleep.


	29. Flowers

**Prompt: Eames is a florist, and every day he sends a bouquet of flowers to Arthur at his book store across the street.**

* * *

"Arthur, there's another one." Ariadne called from the front of the store. Arthur, who had been pricing that morning's delivery, sighed. Every day a bouquet of flowers had been arriving, addressed to him, with no card. He'd asked all of his friends, but none of them had the slightest clue who was sending them.

"Okay. I'm going to go over and ask. Mr Eames must know who keeps ordering them. Can you close up on your own?"

Ariadne grinned. "Of course, wait, come here a second." She straightened Arthur's tie. "There. Now knock him dead."

Arthur glared at her. "I'm just going over to ask if he knows who keeps sending me flowers, Ariadne. Why do I need to 'knock him dead'?"

"You are joking, right, Arthur? As if I don't know that you've got a crush on Eames." She told him, frowning.

"I do not." Arthur told her stiffly, before exiting the store in a dignified manner, and walking over to the florists opposite. He found himself smoothing down his hair awkwardly and blushed. He did _not_ have a crush on Eames. He merely enjoyed the florist's company and appreciated the way he knew his trade. It had everything to do with Eames' deft skill at putting together a beautiful bouquet and nothing to do with fantasising about the florist's hands.

Pushing open the door, the sickly sweet smell of pollen smacked Arthur in the face.

"Arthur!" Eames exclaimed delightedly. "What can I do for you? Or is this purely a social call?"

"I got a bouquet of flowers today, from this florists. As I have every day for the past three weeks. Do you know who ordered them?" Arthur asked, awkwardly.

Eames busied himself with arranging a bunch of white lilies, interspersing them orange blossoms. "Unfortunately not, darling, and even if I did I wouldn't be at liberty to say. I could lose customers if I went round giving out personal information."

Arthur sighed. "I thought you might say something like that. I just figured it was worth a try." He settled down on a stool, watching Eames trim the stems in a precise manner.

"Did you like them? The flowers I mean." Eames asked, casually, concentrating on his work. "I put them together myself. Lilacs, tulips, daffodils, I believe?"

"They were very beautiful." Arthur told him, honestly. "But I prefer much simpler things. Like those lilies you're holding now. I've never been one for extravagance." He admitted.

Eames glanced at him, thoughtfully. "No." He murmured, almost to himself. "No, I see what you mean."

Arthur got to his feet. "I better go. I've left Ariadne to lock up." He said regretfully. "I'll... see you tomorrow?"

Eames hummed in response, not looking up until after Arthur had left the store. He returned to the book store just in time to catch Ariadne and retrieve the keys, before heading home for the night.

The next day, there was a sudden influx of customers. Arthur had no time to head across to the florist, as he was rushed off his feet most of the morning. Just before they were ready to close, things began to die down, just in time for the delivery of flowers.

"Oh, Arthur, these are beautiful." Ariadne gasped, holding out the flowers. Arthur glanced down and paused, staring at the white lilies and orange blossoms in disbelief. "There's a card too."

She handed it to Arthur without reading it. It wasn't a declaration of love, or anything remotely huge. It simply read 'Do you want to go for a drink?'

"Can you lock up?" Arthur asked, urgently. Ariadne nodded, baffled, as Arthur grabbed the bouquet of flowers and dashed out of the store, running to the florist across the street. He burst through the door, ignoring Eames' yelp of surprise, and leaned across the counter.

"Three weeks you've been sending these. You could've just asked." Arthur told him, breathlessly.

Eames bit back a smile. "Well, I'm asking now. Do you want to go for a drink, darling?"

"I'd like nothing more, Mr Eames." Arthur grinned, grabbing Eames' apron and pulling him down for a kiss.


End file.
